


Reject Reflection

by GuiltyConscience



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Blood, Gen, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyConscience/pseuds/GuiltyConscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It caught them by surprise when Torm suddenly cried out in pain and their left sleeve quickly became damp with blood.</p><p>Even though they've become their own person their body still reflects the originals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reject Reflection

It caught them by surprise when Torm suddenly cried out in pain and their left sleeve quickly became damp with blood. A gash had suddenly appeared on their left arm and they mentioned feeling like something had been dropped on them and had a headache. 

Tomattoredd immediately had them sit down on the couch in case they had a concussion and quickly went to grab the first aid kit. Scribble Tom was put on Torm watching duty and realistic Matt was calling Serious Tom to have him bring some extra first aid supplies on the way home from work. Torm was muttering to themselves wincing periodically.

“What’s going on? What do you think they-we-they?- are doing?”

“I-I really hope it’s not what I think it is….”

“What? What do you think it is?”

“I uh.. might have um… turned the kitchen fan into a saw?”

“ _s_ Aw _wH_ aT?”

“Not now Scrib. You turned th- _really_?”

“…”

“ ** _Why_**?”

“Uhhh, I was bored…?”

“Why did you phrase that as a ques-HFfff!”

The sudden loss of air has them folding forward holding their gut but Scribble Tom is quick to take action, climbs on their back and attempts to give them a hug.

“AwwWWw aRe yOU siK frIend?”

Torm doesn’t respond as they continues to feel blows raining down on them and curls up further on the couch with soft gasps of pain.

“FriENd?…ToRM?”

“Torm, oh dear. Here Matty.” Tomatoredd comes back with the first aid kit and is quick to pick up and pass Scribble Tom to Realistic Matt.  After finishing up the call with Serious Tom telling him to come home as soon as possible Matty takes Scribble Tom to a different room to keep him distracted and out of the way. Tomatoredd gives him a nod of thanks before settling next to Torm on the couch and pulling out some supplies from the first aid kit.

“Is it… Still going on?” Tomatoredd asks nervously. If it really was happening because of the originals why isn’t he feeling anything from this? What was going on?

Torm attempts to nod through a grunt of pain, their Tord side clearly getting agitated.

“The robot?”

“What robot?”

“Under the house, I…”

They’re constantly cut off by invisible blows and Tomatoredd feels useless just watching them struggle with their situation.

“I better stop your cut from bleeding out any farther…” Tomatoredd quickly lifts Torms sleeve up over the wound when another sudden cut appears on the underside of Torms arm pulling another quick shout from them and spattering the couch and Tomatoredd’s legs with blood.

“Shit!”

Tomatoredd dives for the gauze quickly pressing it against the new wound while grabbing another wad for the first one.

“Tom, I fucked up.”

“What?! No you didn’t! I mean well original you might have but-”

Tomatoredd loses his grip on Torms arm as they suddenly cry out and hold it over their right side protectively, not quite touching but enough to indicate something terrible as they make soundless gasps and gulps for air.

“Torm?”

You get up off the couch and crouch down in front of them.

“Torm! Look at me! What’s wrong!?”

They just barely lift their head and you nearly retch at the sight.

The eye on their right side, Tords eye, oozes from its socket and melts onto the burning flesh on their cheek that peels, crisps, and glistens wetly with blood. If it was possible to say Tom’s eye was unfocused you would. They took quick breathy gasps pitched with airy whines of agony. Their left hand is shaking but still hovering over their right side which is…

Soaked in blood, hanging limp like an old wet rag.

Tomatoredd panics and wrenches their sweater off with a quick apology as they yelp and then panics even more when the t-shirt they’re wearing underneath is even worse off than the sweater. Their right arm is covered in bone deep gashes, cuts, and scrapes that run from Torms wrist to their neck, up the side of their face and into their hairline.

Serious Tom enters just at the moment when Torm faints from the pain, falling onto the arm of the couch getting that covered in blood too. Thomas rushes over pulling out the extra medical supplies he was asked to pick up.

“Why didn’t Matty tell me it was this bad?!”

“Thomas! It wasn’t this bad before! It just keeps getting worse!” Tomatoredd’s hands flutters over Torm clearly wanting to move them without aggravating the injuries further.

Thomas slips his suit jacket off tossing it on one of the other chairs and rolls up his sleeves. “We have to act quick before they bleed out…” He grabs a pair of gloves putting them on and handing a second pair to Tomatoredd.

The two of them lay Torm on the couch in a way that’s easier to get to their new wounds. The T-shirt is cut away to reveal more wounds on the side of their ribs and a few grazes on their hips and stomach. They immediately try to slow the bleeding with the fabric and finding another large cut on the back of Torms neck just behind their ear. This prompts the two to check Torms back finding a few more cuts and grazes.

It takes hours, going over every wound carefully cleaning them out and applying stitches when needed. They had hesitated over how to deal with Torms eye before consulting the internet and removing it delicately then covering  it with gauze and bandages. Their arm was wrapped from wrist to neck and tucked into a sling to prevent it from being moved.

Realistic Matt comes into the room quietly when they’re about done and informs them of an explosion that was on the news. Two houses were destroyed in the blast, one of which had belonged to the Originals. They all share a look and the house is quiet for the rest of the evening. They take turns keeping watch over Torm to make sure nothing else happens.

Torm doesn’t wake until mid afternoon the next day.

The day starts off quiet. Thomas took the day off as a family emergency so he could keep watch on Torm and the others could go to work, their bosses wouldn’t let them out of work if they died. Scribble Tom was out in the living room watching TV and drawing.

Torm had begun muttering and Thomas knew that was a bad sign when the rejected clone normally did their best to keep their conversations to themselves to appear as one person. He kept a close eye on them as they conversed quietly.

“This is my fault, I should never have been so stupid to make those things…”

“Yes, it’s stupid old you weaponized the house but no, it’s not _your_ fault. You were here with me not there doing… whatever **he** did. He’s not you, you’re different. We’re different.”

“We’re just mashed together that doesn’t change who we are. We’re still them.”

“Ok look, physical yes, but mentally we’ve changed. It’s been years, we have our own experiences and memories now. We are our _own person_ now. We are different.”

“…”

“If we were still the same we’d be ripping each other apart like we had in the beginning.” They wince at the poor choice in wording before settling into quiet.

Thomas feels the tension build rather than lift as Torm remains quiet staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry for who I was.”

“Yeah well, you can’t change the past so…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry! If you keep this up I’m going to start wishing you were the unapologetic jerk!”

“No don’t do that. If I was him we wouldn’t have an arm anym-”

They’re cut off by white hot pain biting into their upper arm and their bandages soak with blood again. Their ragged cry has Thomas standing up in a rush to grab the first aid kit and stop the bleeding.

Torm pants between manic laughs of, “Jinxed it”, and cries in pain as the rush of agony comes back again and again like a heartbeat. They crumple forward forehead on their knees and take short sharp gasping breaths.

Thomas, with a roll of gauze in hand, grasps Torms right arm and lets out his own cry of alarm as the arm comes away in his hand with a swath of old bandages.

Torm gives a final ragged inhalation of breath before dropping on his left side unconscious. And Thomas swears colourfully dropping the arm and pilling gauze onto the bleeding stump of Torms shoulder and applying pressure with both hands. He was going to need help.

“Scrib! Scribble!”

A patter of steps makes its way to the door but before the Scribble Tom can open the door Thomas stops him while piling more gauze onto the wound.

“No, no! Don’t come in! Listen, I need you to call Tomato, can you do that for me?”

“MmMm YeAh!” Steps make their way down the hall and you can hear a series of tones from the phone a burble of conversation and then steps back to the door.

“ToMato WanTs tO knOw If evRy thIgS GoOd?”

“Tell him to come home now! It’s important!”

Scribble relays Thomas’s message to Tomatoredd and then hangs up the phone. He sits outside the door patiently asking questions every now and then as Thomas answers briefly between swearing under his breath as the bleeding just barely slows.

Torm is going to bleed out at this rate.

They would need a transfusion but it wasn’t like they could go to the hospital that easily. They’d have to figure it out themselves. Since Torm was both Tom and Tord only a Tom or Tord clone could be a donor. Tomatoredd was also fused with Matt and Edd so he wouldn’t be able to be a donor, Matty was, well… Matt, and Scribble was a Tom but… they couldn’t put him through that. So… that left Thomas. He let out a heavy sigh, well things could always be worse.

With one hand on the mound of gauze Thomas cuts a strip of bandages with the other and tightly ties it above the wound and around the gauze to hold it in place. He piles pillows against the head board and leans Torm against it to elevate the wound in hope that would help slow the bleeding further.

Then he consulted the internet and gathered supplies in preparation for when Tomatoredd would arrive.

A half hour goes by and Torms bleeding slows but does not stop. There’s a knock at the door before Tomatoredd enters quietly with what looks like a bag of extra supplies. Thomas decides to address the problem without sugar coating it.

He holds up Torms detached right arm. “ _Someone_ decided to amputate and didn’t consult with Torm. Now he has a gaping open wound, is bleeding out, and needs a transfusion if we’re going to stitch the wound closed. So I’m going to need your help because the only one of us who can be a donor for him is me.”

Tomatoredd goes pale at the sight of the disembodies arm and then panics at the mention of a transfusion.

“But how?! I don’t know how to do a transfusion! Why do you want me to do it?!”

“Look just,” Thomas sighs again and gathers his thoughts, “Follow my instructions for the transfusion and then stitch Torms wound closed. Okay?”

Tomatoredd looks down at their trembling hands. They take a moment and Thomas knows they’re debating with themselves. They’ve gotten better at keeping it to themselves now rather than speaking out loud. Thomas gives them all the time they need and it pays off.

Toamatoredd takes a deep breath and then nods.

Thomas gives a small smile and then turns back to Torm with a serious look and gathered the supplies on the bed.

“So here’s what you’re going to do…”

Torm wakes in a haze, blinking slowly, staring off to the left a little, not quite registering things yet. They feel light headed and their shoulder aches a little but other than that they feel like they could fall asleep again.

When their eyes begin to focus and they register the weight of the blanket on them they finally start to notice things. Thomas has a bandage on his arm and is sleeping in a chair next to the bed looking pretty pale. The door to the room is open and Torm can see Tomatoredd with scribble on the couch sleeping too.

Torm looks to his right where Matty is watching over him with a book in hand. When the realistic clone notices their stare he gives a small wave and sympathetic smile which you scowl at. You don’t want to be pitied. Matty’s smile quirks at the corners and he points to a glass of water on the bedside table. He’s being quiet and careful not to wake anyone up.

Torm goes to grab the glass himself but…

His arm is gone. Non-existent. Vamoose. _Borte. Savnet._

_I’m sorry._

A voice whispers in their head before they feel an unnatural silence in their mind.

“Tord?”

The silence echoes.

“T-….Tord?” There’s a quiet stirring. “No, come on. Don’t do this to me. Don’t.”

Matty looks concerned and reaches out a hand but Torm ducks to the side avoiding it.

“Talk to me. Please. Come on I said please now you _have_ to listen. **Tord**.”

Thomas begins to stir as Tords Tom side begins to get more agitated and raises his voice.

“Don’t leave me in silence like this! Tord, come on, it’s not funny!”

Torm begins to tremble, his remaining hand digging into the fabric on the right side of his shirt. He folds himself into himself and as Thomas wakes he just barely hears.

“Don’t make me go through this again. I don’t want to be alone.”

“ _Please. Don’t leave me._ ”

He goes unanswered.

“ _Please_ ”

Torm is silent for a long time before tiny gasps are heard from his curled form. Matty places a gentle hand on Torms back and is met with no resistance but heavier sobs prompting the realistic clone to pull him into a hug.

Thomas put’s a hand on Torms shoulder for added reassurance.

“It’s alright, take your time.”

“We’re here. We’ve got you.”

 

 

Two weeks later while having breakfast Torm suddenly drops his bowl of cereal and lets out an enraged shout “You JERK! Do you know wh-no, of course you know what I’ve been through, you’ve been here the _WHOLE FUCKING TIME_!” His anger turns into relieved sobs and laughter. “You commie bastard, fuck. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”

Their tears clear and with laughter and they begin to make some bacon.


End file.
